A banshee once went on a date—
A dinner.  It wasn't so great:
   She started to cry
   Right across from the guy,
Who then choked and fell dead on his plate.

O.O

"No, no, go not to Lethe..."
                —John Keats

Ignore them, though they call you,—all the pills
   And liquor teasing playfully from the drawer,—
The leather belt, half on the chair, that spills
   Into a single loop onto the floor;
Fashion no crown of thorns with poisoned darts;
   And let the vulture fly an aimless flight
      That sees him make in vain each listless sweep
Till he forsakes his stalking and departs;
   For soon you'll blink into a dreamless night,
      And sleep Endymion's never-waking sleep.

O.O

Enfleshed and skinned and stuffed with juicy giblets:
A future worm's-meal of steaks and chops and riblets.

O.O

I whistle a tune
At nighttime's noon
   In a minor key
To call my bat
And little black cat
   To eat with me.

My spider spins with thinnest thread
      Her web of lace
   To capture her meal: your head
         And face.

O.O

One autumn day in Providence
   I opened up a door,
And entered into a stuffy room
   Called "Edgar's Nevermore",

A curio shop with things forbidden,
   And things bizarre and perverse,
And obelisks of ancient books
   Occult, arcane, and diverse.

I poked around the pint-sized potions,
   Inspected a petrified eft,
But made no purchase; and empty handed
   The merchant's lair I left.

Returning home, to my surprise,
   Like one who'd broken the law,
I found I'd taken a good unpaid for:
   A little monkey's paw.

It tightly gripped, with fingers curled,
   A flap of baggy sleeve;
And there it stayed, upon my jacket,
   When I hung it up at eve.

For many days it didn't move,
   And seemed the perfect pet;
But never trust a monkey's paw,
   Or this is what you'll get:

I went to bed a drunken evening,
   And slept as though I were dead;
And I didn't hear the monkey's paw
   As it crept beside my bed,

The monkey's paw that had bided its time,
   And waited, still as could be,
To choose this night to strangle it—
   My voodoo doll of me!

(Why did I have a voodoo doll
   Of me, you ask? Well, I...
Well, let's just say...well...I can't tell you...
   I'd blush to tell you why...)

I awoke (with bleary, blurry vision)
   To the monkey-****** grip,
Then died without a single curse
   To swear upon my lip.

And in my town I'm still remembered
   As that quintessential loner
Who died alone with a mangled throat,
   A creepy doll...and a *****.

O.O

.
   I keep an imp:
   It dangles limp,
And sleeps away its time,
   Only arousing
   To go out carousing,
Painting the town with slime.

O.O

Arise, arise, my ugly friends;
   Arise, and bring a cup!
I've got for you some witch's brew:
   Come out, and drink it up!

Come swim with me the river of dreams,
   Where poisonous flowers bloom:
Come on, get high: climb up the sky:
   Get higher than high on "the broom".

A lesser man can **** his can,
   His bottle, or his blood;
But me? I need the weedy mead:
   All other spirits are mud.

And those who know, they know it so:
   No other brew will do;
So be my guest and get possessed
   On my homemade witch's brew!

O.O

For those who like a little punch
   When drinking Coca-Cola:
Try it with a sprig of mint,
   Or spike it with ebola.

O.O

To swim the slimy seas the ocean o’er
And gag upon the rank and rotten air
Filthy with sailor’s curse and foulest swear
In search of lost and dearly loved Lenore,
To open up the inner sanctum’s door
And call (in tongues unfit for holy prayer)
Clammy Cthulhu forth from out his lair,
Will be to me most pleasant evermore.
And like a count who shuns the light of day
And moves by candlelight in chilly gloom,
Or a black witch that wears a sacred bloom
Of belladonna on her breast alway,
I live where the scarecrow spies the blackbird’s lark:
I live within the cold and rainy dark.

O.O